Tenth Grade Bleeds (6 page)

Vlad blinked, utterly confused. He reached out with his mind, calling to Otis for help . . . but Otis was silent.

As D'Ablo stepped outside, he spoke again, this time without looking back. “Sweet dreams.”

His words were followed by chilling laughter.

I
GNATIUS SLIPPED THE CURVED BLADE into the leather holster on his leg. It wasn't the only tool he would need in torturing the Tod boy, but it was by far his favorite. The blade was an extension of himself, and had shed nearly as much blood. They were one. Symbiotic, in a way. The blade hungered for blood, but needed Ignatius's actions and strength to acquire it. And Ignatius . . . he hungered for justice, something only the blade could provide for him. Soon they would taste both.

Lying on the table was a stack of papers, all stamped with the official seal of the Stokerton council. The top paper held the signatures of every council member. They had granted him official permission to hunt the boy at last. It was about time.

Now Ignatius's only concern was how to find the boy alone . . . and in total darkness.

His allergy to the sun—so severe that he would burn even from the light that reflected off the moon at night, so terrible that it could not be overcome by mere sunblock—was an embarrassment that he had dealt with since the moment he'd been reborn into vampiric society. He had never let it hold him back from completing a task. Never. And it wouldn't stop him this time.

He would capture Vladimir Tod . . . and make him bleed until his screams were silenced.

V
LAD SUCKED THE SWEET CRIMSON LIQUID through a straw, careful not to smudge his now green face. Dressing as Frankenstein (or, technically, Frankenstein's monster) for Matthew's annual Halloween party turned out to be a bit more challenging than he'd thought, and he hadn't even left the house yet. The makeup was a pain to put on, let alone
keep
on. And the bolts he'd attached to his neck with FX putty kept drooping. Still, it wasn't as if the costume or the party or even D'Ablo's visit over two months ago was stressing him out—even though, admittedly, Vlad had been watching around every corner for D'Ablo's return. It was Henry.

“I just don't understand what made you change your mind about going, that's all. We always go to Matthew's Halloween party together.” Vlad frowned at Henry, who was leaning up against the kitchen counter sans costume, his arms crossed in front of him. “Is it because Meredith is coming with me? Because it's not like you'd be a third wheel or anything.”

“It's not that.” Henry shook his head. “I'm just getting too old for this kinda stuff.”

Vlad gaped openly at his best friend. “Dude, we're the same age! And anyway, who cares? It's the funnest night of the year. Why shouldn't we dress up and goof off?”

Henry shrugged. “I just don't feel like going, okay?”

But Vlad knew exactly what Henry's reasons were for not going to Matthew's party this year. For one, Melissa Hart had already accepted a date with Mike Brennan—and these days, Henry only seemed to have eyes for Melissa. And for two, Melissa and Meredith were practically inseparable, which likely meant that the four of them were going to spend quite a bit of time together at the party . . . and Henry would feel left out. Vlad got it. He really did. But he also knew that he would do everything in his power not to make Henry feel like a tagalong, and he needed Henry to believe that.

Vlad sighed, dropping the empty blood bag and straw into the biohazard box under the sink. It wasn't just that Vlad wanted Henry to come. Henry's presence made it a whole lot easier to share the same air as the popular kids, and to ward off any nasty comments about Vlad. His best friend was an ever-present safety catch.

When he looked at Henry, it pained him. His friend seemed so stressed out lately, and there was little Vlad could do to alleviate it. “Look, I know how much you like Melissa, Henry—”

“ Then help me.”

Vlad blinked. “How?”

Henry uncrossed his arms and placed his hands back on the counter, hunching his shoulders. He held Vlad's gaze for a moment before answering. “Find out if Melissa likes me.”

Vlad shrugged, hoping Henry wasn't asking him to do what he thought he was asking him to do. “I guess I could ask Meredith—”

“You know that's not what I mean.” Henry's mouth was a thin, determined line. “Read her mind. Tell me whether or not I even have a remote chance with her.”

Vlad couldn't believe what he was hearing. Reading the minds of hot girls at the mall was one thing. But sneaking around in Melissa's private thoughts just to give Henry an edge—an edge Henry didn't need at all with any other girl at Bathory High—just seemed wrong. He knew Henry only asked out of desperation, but that still didn't make it right. He shook his head. “I can't do that, man. Sorry.”

Henry's face flushed. His voice shook slightly. “What good are all these vampiric powers if you can't even help out a friend?”

“I'm not saying no to be a jerk. I just don't feel right about traipsing around inside Melissa's head.” He looked at Henry and sighed. “I'm sorry. I just can't.”

“So you're a hypocrite.”

“No, I just know right from wrong.”

Henry dropped his gaze, defeated. Several moments of awkward, tense silence passed, until finally he spoke, giving way to a drastic subject change. “Have you had any luck reaching Otis?”

Vlad watched him for a moment. Resisting the temptation to peek into his friend's thoughts, Vlad toyed absently with the bolt on the left side of his neck. “Not yet. It's weird, I haven't been able to reach him since he left town.”

Henry shrugged, not looking completely invested in the conversation. “Maybe it's a distance thing?”

“Might be. I mean, I had no problem with distance in the training room in Siberia, but outside that room . . . well, it's harder to reach people sometimes.” Vlad furrowed his brow. “I hope he's not keeping me out of his head for some reason.”

“I'm sure he's not. Don't worry about it.”

But Vlad was worried about it. The quiet in his mind was terribly unsettling. But he trusted Otis. And if Otis said he'd be back soon, he'd be back soon.

The doorbell rang, and Vlad gave Henry one last pleading glance before bolting for the door. Before he reached it, Henry already had his jacket on and was saying his goodbyes to Nelly.

When Vlad opened the door, Meredith smiled at him, looking even cuter this year as the bride of Frankenstein. Sure, the idea of matching costumes had given him indigestion at first, but Vlad was quickly catching on to this having a girlfriend thing. Stay your own person, have your own opinions, but if the girl you hope to kiss after the party suggests you wear dorky matching outfits, then you'd better act like Dorkapalooza is on your top-ten list of fave things to do. Vlad smiled back and said, “Nice hair.”

Her tresses were heaped in a black-and-white-streaked mound atop her head, standing a foot high at least. She giggled. “Thanks. It took my mom three hours and two cans of hairspray, but I think it'll hold.”

He was about to make a witty comment about how she looked really beautiful, bride of a fictional monster or not, but then Henry brushed by on his way out the door. Vlad frowned. “Come on, Henry. You don't even have to dress up, okay?”

Henry's eyes flicked to Meredith and then to Vlad. He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I told you, man. I just don't feel like going.”

Then Henry trudged down the front steps and across the yard. Vlad watched him with troubled eyes. Meredith tugged his sleeve. “It'll be okay. We'll still have fun. Don't worry.”

Vlad dropped his gaze for a moment. Not even the promise of a happy night semi-alone with Meredith could wash away his concerns. His best friend was clearly troubled by something. Vlad just hoped that something wasn't him.

While Nelly and Meredith exchanged pleasantries, Vlad thought about Henry and what might be on his mind. He knew Melissa was in there somewhere—after all, Henry had never had a problem getting girls to like him, and Melissa had shown absolutely zero interest in his charms so far. It had to be a bruise to his ego. But Vlad suspected that wasn't the only thing troubling him.

Lately, whenever Vlad would hover in front of his best friend or open the
Encyclopedia Vampyrica
in front of him, inciting his eyes to flash iridescent purple, Henry's mood would shift, and then he'd sulk for days. Vlad had a sneaking suspicion that maybe being Vlad's drudge—Vlad's human slave, all because of a single bite—was getting to Henry in the worst way. The kind of way that meant that Henry was so bothered by it that he couldn't even bring himself to tell Vlad.

Of course, this was all speculation on Vlad's part. And he might be completely wrong about why Henry had been acting so sullen lately. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he really just didn't feel like dressing up and going to Matthew's party. It was possible. Vlad highly doubted it . . . but it was possible.

“Vladimir?” Nelly's voice broke into his thoughts, and he blinked at her. “Did you hear me?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something. What did you say?”

A brief flash of concern crossed her eyes. “No later than eleven tonight, okay?”

Vlad let out a sigh. “It's been eleven for the past two years. Y'know, I am older now.”

Nelly nodded thoughtfully. “You're absolutely right. Older and able to get into more trouble. Better make it ten.”

Vlad groaned and rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. “Fine. See you at eleven.”

Meredith chattered all the way to Matthew's house. For the most part, Vlad listened and laughed at all the right spots. But tainting their precious time together was the matter of Henry, and the gnawing feeling that Vlad was somehow responsible for his cloudy mood. Not to mention his dire stress at the idea of attending a party without his best friend to protect him.

As they stepped up onto the front porch, Vlad saw the flash of a camera from the corner of his eye. Eddie.

Vlad tensed and forced himself to ignore the little twit, difficult as it was.

Meredith turned to Vlad, a small crease in her forehead. “Are you okay, Vlad? You seem . . . distracted.”

He hadn't realized it was that obvious. He said, “It's Henry. He's been acting really weird lately.”

Meredith nodded with understanding. “I bet it's because of what happened with Melissa.”

Vlad's eyes probably couldn't have gone any wider if he tried. “Something happened?”

She nodded, sighing loudly. “Henry asked her out in the middle of the student council meeting last week, right in front of everyone. She said no, of course—she's always thought Henry was kind of a jerk, y'know? On account of how he dates all sorts of girls, but never really has a girlfriend.”

On Henry's behalf, Vlad winced. Once a girl had listed your name in the jerk category, there was little hope of recovery.

“So anyway, Melissa told him no. But . . . well, she also told him that it didn't matter if he got down on his knees and begged her, she'd never go out with him. Not in a million years.” She shrugged. “But it's not like it matters, right? I mean, Henry can get any girl.”

“Any girl but Melissa, you mean.” Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment before meeting her eyes. “ The problem is that it really does matter to Henry.”

Meredith sighed. “I guess he's pretty upset, huh?”

With a nod, Vlad frowned. There had to be something he could do to help Henry out, short of reading Melissa's thoughts, anyway. And why hadn't Henry told him about Melissa flaming him in public like that? But then, he was probably pretty embarrassed by it. Who wouldn't be?

Meredith squeezed his hand and said, “You're sweet, Vlad. Henry's lucky to have you for a friend. And I'm lucky too.”

“Why?”

“Because I get to do this.” She leaned closed and brushed her lips against his cheek.

Vlad's skin warmed at her touch. He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze back. Then he reached up and gently wiped the green makeup from her lips with his sleeve. “I'm the lucky one.”

After exchanging blushing glances, they headed up the steps together and immersed themselves in Matthew's living room-turned-graveyard, complete with moss-covered tombstones and eerie fog. The room wasn't as crowded as last year, and as they moved through it, Vlad realized that most of the guests were heading downstairs. He and Meredith made their way to the basement, which had been decorated like some kind of medieval torture room. There was even a robotic half-dead mutant strapped to the stretching rack that screamed every time somebody walked by. Vlad grinned. Now
this
was a party.

The music was pretty loud, mostly Top 40 stuff. Matthew's dad manned the stereo, dressed like a Hawaiian tourist. Vlad had seen him wearing that same shirt all through last summer. It wasn't so much a costume as an excuse to don his immensely ugly orange, teal, and yellow flowered shirt.

Matthew's mom was dressed like Glinda from
The Wizard of Oz .
She was busy force-feeding cupcakes to any guest that came within a four-foot radius of the buffet, but not before asking them in a shrill voice if they were a good witch or a bad witch. Matthew, understandably, kept to the other side of the room and pretended they weren't related.

Vlad was shaking his head at the scene in front of him when he suddenly realized he was no longer holding Meredith's hand and that there was a girlish squeal-fest going on to his right. He looked over at Meredith, who was hugging Melissa and jumping up and down a little. Melissa was dressed as a fairy, complete with large, sparkly wings, which smacked Mike Brennan in the face as Melissa bounced in girlish glee.